


När Jag Blundar

by EsotericOctopus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/F, Fear of Parenthood, Feels, Fostering to Adoption, Non-Binary Hange Zoë, Parenthood, Past Child Abuse, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsotericOctopus/pseuds/EsotericOctopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a child lying on her kitchen floor.</p><p>Ymir is having none of this shit.</p><p>On hiatus till I get I get back into the groove.  (Probably when Ymir shows up again)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The thing about life changing events is that they rarely come with a warning. There you are, minding your own fucking business when Bang! Some crap comes out of nowhere to change things for better or worse.

For Ymir, it was like that too.

Her day starts off like any other: waking up to see her girlfriend off, falling back to sleep, getting up again to write, dicking around on the internet instead of writing, taking a nap.

It's when she wakes up from her nap that things start to go wrong. There are noises coming from the kitchen that put her on full alert. She hears her girlfriend talking in a distressed tone and a rather alarming amount of banging. She is out of bed when she hears Historia's “Stop that!”

Things seem to still when she yanks open the bedroom door and strides down the hall. Surprisingly, she finds Historia at the entrance to the kitchen, looking frazzled, but unharmed.

“The hell's going on?” Ymir barks, still ready to go on the offensive at any moment. Historia tenses and draws her lips together. She looks nervously at Ymir and tries to say something before another bang cuts her off. She quickly looks back into the kitchen.

Ymir frowns, and turns to look into the kitchen from over the island that separates it from the living room. She doesn't see anything.

“...The fuck?” Do they have a poltergeist or some shit?

As she's looking, one of the lower cabinets opens and slams shut. Ymir's eyes widen and she shoves her girlfriend out of the way to get into the kitchen. She stops dead.

There's a child in their kitchen. Sprawled out on the floor, thin and bruised, looking furious. As Ymir stands there, the kid tilts her(?) head up to stare at Ymir upside-down. Without breaking eye contact, she grabs a cabinet and slowly opens it, only to slam it a moment later.

“Ymir...” comes Historia's voice from behind.

“Historia,” Ymir says back, not taking her eyes of the little brat.

“I...I tried to call but...” Historia's tone is placating, like she thinks Ymir is going to blow up or something. Ymir hates that tone.

“There's a fucking kid in our kitchen,” Ymir has always been good at stating the obvious. In this case though, she really has no idea what to say. She can't even wrap her head around it.

“I know, look, it's only temporary...” Ymir starts at that and whips around to face Historia.

“Whoa, what the fuck do you mean 'temporary'?” Historia places her hands on Ymir in a comforting gesture.

“Ymir, please, I didn't want to do this, but she's a delicate case-”

“And you brought her _here_?!” Ymir is starting to feel a little hysterical. Another bang makes her jump and she turns back to yell at the kid. “Goddamn it, knock that shit off!”

The girl's eyes widen and she jerks as if struck. It makes Ymir's stomach clench unpleasantly.

“Ymir!”

No. No no nonono.

“I'm going for a walk.” Ymir moves out of Historia's grasp and pushes past her.

“Ymir, wait!” Ymir ignores her girlfriend's call and grabs her wallet before making a beeline for the front door. She jams her feet in her boots while blocking out Historia's further pleas for her to stay. Ymir doesn't know why she bothers; this isn't the first time she's left when things got to be too much. Historia knows she'll be back.

Ymir throws open the door just as Historia becomes distracted by the kid in the kitchen once again. Her kitchen. The goddamn kid on her kitchen floor banging her nice kitchen cabinets.

Ymir cannot deal with this shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got pretty rushed at some points because I wanted to get this this up before I left on vacation, but have been feeling ill due to med changes. I'll edit both chapters when I get back.

The air is crisp, and the slight bite of it helps take her mind off things. Ymir hadn't had the foresight to bring her jacket anyway, cause she's stupid like that.

When Historia decided to work at CPS, Ymir hadn't been too keen on it. She thought they were over that martyr shit a long time ago. But Historia had promised her she wouldn't let it take over her life, and Ymir had believed her. Neither of them wanted kids; the fear of motherhood, coming from seriously fucked up childhoods, was something they shared.

So why now? What the hell made this kid so goddamn special that Historia would break her word?

Briefly, Ymir wonders if she should call someone, thinking that talking about this will help. Then she remembers that Historia is her go-to person for that sort of thing. She doesn't like the idea of being vulnerable in front of anyone else. Most of them are idiots anyway.

Ymir groans, knowing she has to buck up and face the problem like an adult. It's starting to get dark out too, and she knows Historia will start to worry if she's not back soon. So she grudgingly turns around and starts walking back.

She takes the long way back home, because she is a coward as well as stupid.

 

When she gets home, she enters quietly, feeling almost like a spouse coming home from an affair. She tugs off her boots with less violence than she put them on, and slowly makes her way to the living room. Historia is there, standing near the couch. She looks up as Ymir enters.

“Hey,” she says with a surprising amount of calm. Most of the time when Ymir storms out, it's after a proper fight, and she comes back to the silent treatment. “Feeling better?”

Ymir shrugs, “Yeah, I guess.”

Historia nods and touches Ymir's shoulder. Ymir reaches up to rub her arm and they exchange non-verbal apologies. Historia glances over to the couch before steering Ymir into the kitchen. Before it's out of sight, Ymir looks back at the couch to see what was so interesting. The skirt of the couch lifts up slightly, much to her surprise.

The brat is now under her fucking couch of all things. How the hell did she fit under there?

Resigning herself to a night of this bullshit, Ymir sits at the island as Historia readies a kettle for tea. Ymir normally drinks coffee, but Historia has started her on tea. A hot drink will be nice regardless.

From her spot, Ymir can see into the living room. The skirt of the couch is still up, and now the girl is peaking out very slightly. Ymir resists the urge to make a face at her.

Historia waits till they are both sitting with steaming mugs before she starts talking.

“About a ten days ago, the police arrested a man for failing to show up to his court hearing. They happened to find a girl locked away in one of the rooms, starving and savage. She wouldn't, or _couldn't_ , speak to anyone and resisted attempts to get her to safety. She even bit someone.” 

Ymir snorts at this. She can imagine it, the look in that brat's eyes had been fierce.

Kinda looked like her own eyes before she met Historia.

“The man claimed that he was her daughter, and that a woman he had slept with had dumped the girl with him.” Historia continues, ignoring her girlfriend. “They sent away a DNA test but the results aren't in yet. They didn't find any indication of sexual assault or any missing persons reports that matched her. Still, she has been neglected and abused to the point that she doesn't even seem to know her own name.”

“What is her name, anyway?” Ymir figures she should at least know that much. Not that she's gonna use it.

“Maria. Apparently her mother told her father the name, but he didn't really use it.” Historia has been flexing her fingers around her mug. Ymir isn't sure she realizes it.

“Alright, so, brat's been living the hard life, what does this have to do with her being in our apartment?” Ymir is kind of dreading the answer. Historia fidgets a bit in her seat. Ymir's apprehension grows.

“Well...she needs special attention, obviously she can't just go into any old orphanage or foster home. She's going to need a lot of intensive care and rehabilitation, but we didn't have any immediate place to put her. Hange thought it would be best if one of us take her home for the interim, because we know the situation and they trust us.” Historia lets out a sigh. “They chose me despite my protests. You've met Hange, it's impossible to change their mind once it's set on something.”

Fucking Hange, that bitch. Of course this is their fault.

“I'm so sorry Ymir, I really am. I'm honestly not comfortable with this either.” Historia's eye are wide and sad looking. The damn bitch is playing at Ymir's weakness.  Ymir's taught her well. “It's not going to be for very long, I promise! I'll definitely force Hange to find somewhere else soon.”

Fucking hell, there's no way for her to say no without looking like a royal cunt. Which she is, but never to Historia. Still, Ymir takes her sweet time pondering it, finishing her tea lazily. She watches as Historia gets visibly more anxious. The sadistic side of her is tickled by it, but she puts Historia out of her misery.

“One week,” Ymir says as she grabs both of their mugs and takes them to the sink. Historia protests a bit, either at the amount of time, or the fact that she wasn't finished with her tea. Either way, Ymir ignores it. “Look, you go sleep. You've been up for god-knows how long watching after this little monster. I'll camp out here in case she decides to, I dunno, set fire to the place or something.” Historia gives her a look. “What? It's something _I_ would have done at her age!” Historia just rubs her temples tiredly in response.

“Ok, but wake me immediately if something happens.” Historia looks back to the couch in worry. Ymir rolls her eyes and pulls her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. Historia relaxes into her hold.

“I will, ok? Get some sleep, dammit,” Ymir murmurs. Historia hums quietly in affirmation, and after another moment in Ymir's arms, she heads off to the bathroom. Ymir checks the couch and finds the girl peaking out at them. Ymir gives in to her more childish instincts and sticks her tongue out. The girl quickly hides again; that'll teach her not to spy on adults when they're having a moment.

Ymir grabs a spare blanket and her laptop and tosses them in a heap near the couch. She should probably take better care of her electronics some day, but that day wasn't today. Historia finishes up in the bathroom and gives Ymir a good-night kiss before retiring to the bedroom. Ymir brushes her teeth and has a piss before wandering back out into the living room.

Her blanket is gone.

“Son of a...” Ymir strides over to the couch and kneels on the floor. She yanks back the skirt and sees the damn brat squirm farther out of reach, purloined blanket in hand. Ymir glares at her and the girl stares defiantly bank, clutching her prize closer. Dammit, Ymir is a lot of things, but she isn't going to take a blanket from an abused child. Even if that _is_ her favorite blanket.

She grumbles and drops the skirt. She quietly grabs another blanket from the bedroom. The only one left is the shitty one, so she gets to be cold tonight. She curls up with her computer against the side of the sofa. Ymir's not convinced she wants to be this close to the she-devil, but she doesn't really want to lean against a wall, so fuck it.

After several minutes of tense silence, Ymir hears the girl shifting under the couch before it gets quiet again. Eventually, Ymir hears soft, but deep, breathing. Little brat is finally out.

She tries to work on her writing, but it's hard to concentrate. Not even the internet can hold her attention for long. With a sigh, Ymir closes her laptop and settles down more into her blanket nest.  Almost instantly, she feels the exhaustion of the day take over. Her afternoon nap didn't prepare her for the emotional upheaval of the evening.

Ymir falls asleep like that, wondering how the hell she was going to survive a week like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how CPS works, but technically, this takes place in a made-up country so I do what I want.
> 
> This will hopefully update ever 1-2 weeks and will be 10 or more chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be the best at updates.

Ymir's neck feels like death when she wakes up. When she tries to stretch it, a shooting pain goes through her body.

“Motherfucker!” she cries, falling back against the couch. Because of the immense pain, it takes her a few moments to notice the smell of urine. _Son of a-_ “HISTORIA!”

Oh fuck, it hurts to yell. Luckily, Historia comes running after a moment. Ymir can tell she just woke up from the fact that her head resembles a lint ball.

“What's going on?” Historia asks, trying to locate the source of Ymir's distress.

“She fucking pissed under the couch!” Ymir snarls. “And I think I broke my neck or some shit!”

“Don't be a baby, breaking your neck would leave you immobile.”  Historia hurries over to her anyways. She pokes and prods at Ymir's sore neck. “You probably pulled a muscle, go lay down and I'll get you some Ibuprofen.”

“If I could move I would have done that already!” Ymir bitches; Historia manages to pull off a look of both sympathy and exasperation. Despite Ymir's protests, Historia moves around her to peek under the sofa.

“Maria?” she calls softly. “Did you have an accident?” There is no reply, but Ymir wasn't really expecting any. Historia spends maybe five minutes trying to get Maria out, to no avail.

“Give it up, already,” Ymir grumps. “Or at least, help me out before going back to your impossible mission.” Historia concedes and gets up to help her girlfriend. She grabs Ymir the Ibuprofen from the kitchen and helps her lay down in front of the TV, only a few feet away on the floor. It isn't super comfortable, but Ymir has literally slept on rusty nails before so she doesn't give a fuck.

“So, why didn't anyone stick a diaper on her ass?” Ymir grumbles.

“Hange told me she was more or less toilet trained. Apparently, her father put one of those kiddie potties in her room. Seems like he would go in to feed her and clean it out. I'm not sure how often it was, though.” Historia stares at the couch in contemplation, likely wondering how the hell she was going to get the brat out and move the couch with Ymir out of commission.

“Jesus Christ, what did he think she was? A hamster or some shit?” Ymir mutters, trying to remember where she left the remote. If she was super lucky, she may have tossed it somewhere nearby. Probably not though, given how the day is going so far.

“I guess I thought we could get her to transition to the regular toilet, but I don't think she's comfortable enough to even try.”

“Gee, ya think?” Ymir gets a kick for that. It hurts. “Think we can lure her out with some food? It works for Sasha.”

“Not everyone is quite like Sasha, Ymir.”

“What? Like a wild animal? In case you haven't noticed, the little monster is hiding under our couch, wallowing in her own piss. Seems pretty animal-like to me.” Ymir gets another kick for that. “Ow, dammit! Look, we're gonna have to move the couch anyway if we wanna clean that shit up, so you might as well leave her under there till we move it.”

Historia throws her hands up in defeat, “Fine, I'm going to call Bert and Reiner. And get something to eat, it is way to early for this.”

“Baby, Waaaaaaiiiiit!” Ymir wheedles, making her voice as sugary as she can (it's not much). “Get me the remote before you go!”

“Nope.”

That bitch.

 

Reiner and Bertolt arrive within an hour. Ymir listens to Historia greet them at the door, and desperately hopes that Reiner doesn't decide to use her current immobility to get her back for the various shit she's done to him. Said man is being surprisingly quiet, probably because of the terror still under the couch.

“Have you tried food?” Reiner asks almost immediately.

“That's what I said, but nooooooo.” Ymir calls from the floor. Historia gives her a look that promises more kicking if she doesn't shut it. Today sucks.

“She's extremely frightened,” Historia explains. “I think it will take some time before she's willing to come out on her own and I'm not willing to wait much longer. The room is starting to really smell, and it can't be healthy for her to be under there for so long.”

“Especially covered in her own piss!” Ymir supplies, deliberately not looking at her girlfriend. She should probably stop poking at Historia, but this whole thing has made her pretty edgy and she needs some kind of release (and sex is clearly not happening so...)

“Alright, let me get a look at her.” Reiner Braun is on the case. Ymir kinda wishes she had a better view, cause getting the brat out should be hilarious. As it is, she can just barely see Reiner as he walks over to the couch. Ymir carefully turns herself to get a better view of the couch.  Reiner pulls up the skirt and scrutinizes the girl under the couch. “Man, how can she even fit under there? She's like some crazy- _shit!_ ” Reiner rears back and Ymir sees scratch marks on his face. They aren't very deep, and will probably disappear in a couple of hours, but they still must sting.

Ymir bursts out laughing, because she's an ass like that. Reiner scowls at her, clearly not as amused by the attack. Historia is quick to apologize for both Maria and Ymir, but Reiner waves her off.

“Alright, how are we doing this?” He asks Historia. Bertolt nervously approaches the couch, clearly worried he'll be the next victim.

“Where are we going to put the couch once we've lifted it?” He asks, ever the logical one.

“Oh! Let me clear some space,” Historia darts over to left of the couch, out of Ymir's view. There's a lamp and a tall, spiraling CD holder that Annie gave them when they got the apartment. Ymir's almost filled the thing with her collection, and as Bertolt goes over to help Historia, Ymir hears the inevitable sound of several CDs falling to the ground. It's a sad sound, but Ymir has treated her shit much worse, so she doesn't say anything about it.

"Alright, let's do this," Reiner says, going around to one side of the couch.  Bertolt goes around to the other side and Historia stands clear.  Reiner heaves, and his end of the couch lifts up, exposing Maria, Ymir's blanket, and the wet spot in all its glory.

The girl darts out and into the kitchen, still clutching the blanket. Historia runs after her, leaving Bert and Reiner to finish moving the couch. They just barely manage to set it down in the empty space. Bert ends up tripping over something, although Ymir can't see what it is from her angle. Probably her CDs.  Reiner grunts and cracks his back before going over to inspect the damage.

“It's not that bad,” he says. “I'll clean this up while Historia washes the kid. Bert, you wanna help her with that?” Bertolt chuckles nervously.

“Um, I'm not sure that's really a good idea.” Ymir can't see him, but she's sure he's wringing his hands together.

“Yeah, bitch would own Bert's ass,” Ymir helpfully adds. And, because karma is immediate today, a box of tissues is thrown at her head. “Whore.”

“Well, in my wilder days maybe, but I like to think I've settled down.” Reiner replies. Ymir opens her mouth to retort when she notices Historia pulling Maria out of the kitchen.  Reiner notices as well and offers to help.

“I'm fine,” Historia huffs, dragging the struggling child down the hall. There's probably some rule somewhere that says you need to treat abused children more delicately, but Maria seems more put-out than terrified, like she was earlier. Historia magic at its finest.

“Alright, I'll go grab the cleaning supplies,” Reiner says. “Same place as always, I assume?”

“Yee-up,” Ymir drawls. Reiner and Bert have cleaned up a lot of crap at Ymir's place over the years. Mostly vomit. Reiner heads into the kitchen, leaving Bert and Ymir and the pee spot.

“So, what exactly did you do to yourself?” Bertolt asks.

“Slept on my neck wrong,” Ymir grumbles. “Although I think this is all part of some greater plot by some asshole god to get me back for all the shit I've pull over the years.” Bertolt chuckles.

“Well, that certainly wouldn't surprise me,” he says cheekily.

“Up yours,” Ymir supplies. The two lapse into silence; they've known each other for long enough that they don't feel the need to fill the void with chatter.

Then, shrieking starts from the bathroom. Ymir instinctively tries to jump up and ends up regretting it. Reiner comes running out of the kitchen and bolts down to the bathroom. Bertolt follows him part of the way, but stops at the beginning of the hall, clearly nervous. Ymir listens closely to the screams and the pounding, determined to get up if things get too ugly.

In a matter of minutes the screams grow louder and Reiner comes into the living room holding the naked, struggling child. She's latched onto his arm with a vicious bite that's drawing blood, but Reiner is unmoved by it. She's contorting herself pretty violently to try to get out of his grip. Ymir knows that the longer Reiner holds onto her, the crazier she's going to get. So it is only with great willpower that she peels herself off the floor (oh god, so much pain) and shoves Reiner out of the way so she can take over. Reiner lets her, trusting her judgment, but he has to tear his arm out of Maria's mouth and what Ymir sees of the wound before it leaves her line of sight isn't pretty.

Ymir wrestles the girl to the ground, making sure to hold all her limbs down so she can't hurt Ymir or herself.  Ymir is hoping that Maria will remember her from last night, but even if she doesn't, Ymir has her secure enough that she can wear herself out without too much risk.  After a few moments of struggle, Ymir finds the girl looking straight at her.  Ymir stares right back, trying to will the girl into submission.  Something must click in that crazy little mind of hers, because she suddenly falls limp and looks away. Whatever battle of wills they were having, Ymir won.

Now that she's quiet, Ymir takes a moment to get a better look at her. She's abnormally pale and gaunt, more so than Ymir had originally thought. Her brown hair looks like its been cut recently, likely at the hospital, and likely while she was drugged as shit. The bruises, at least, look like they're healing. There are a few on her face and arms, but most of them are clustered on her stomach-an ugly mass of purple and green that Ymir caught a glimpse of when Reiner brought her in. Looking at her makes Ymir feel ill, reminds her other kids like her. There are memories slithering their way to the surface, trying to burst free from the box Ymir has locked up tightly in the back of her mind.

“Oh God, Reiner! Let me take a look at that,” Historia cries from somewhere behind her. Ymir starts a bit, and the girl snaps her eyes back to Ymir's. This time Ymir looks away.

“Ah, yeah, let's go to bathroom.” Reiner grunts, all big macho man. Probably hurts like a bitch. “Don't want to bleed all over your carpet.”

“Oh sure, just leave me lying on a naked child. That isn't weird or anything.” If Ymir snarks enough, maybe she'll feel less shitty. All she gets is a towel thrown on her head as the blondes head back to the scene of the crime. Grumbling, she manages to put the towel on the kid and flop over on her back with as little pain as possible. For a moment, all is quiet.

“Um,” Bert squeaks, breaking the peace. “Um, I'll just, clean up then?” He shuffles off to the kitchen and returns only moments later with a bunch of crap that Ymir assumes Reiner dropped in his haste to help Historia. Bertolt will probably do a better job of cleaning up, so maybe it's all for the best. Of course, because today hasn't sucked enough already, there's a knock on the front door. Really, it's more like a pounding, and Ymir can already guess who it is.

“Beeeeert,” she moans, willing the other man to get the door. He gives a sigh of defeat and goes to do her bidding. Success!

As she expects, as soon as Bertolt opens the door she hears “What the fuck is going on?” Ah Levi, that little buttmunch. Ymir's next door neighbor, as well as both the bane of her life and her best drinking partner, pushes past Bertolt to survey the mess in the living room. He lifts one manicured brow (he totally plucks those things) elegantly.

“I never took you for a pedophile, Ymir.” He says with every ounce of dickishness Ymir has come to know and love. “I suppose Historia is rather small.”

“Fuck you, asswipe!” Ymir cries, trying to get up so she can take a swing at him. This, of course, is a mistake, and she falls back to the floor groaning. You would think she'd have learned her lesson the first time, but Ymir proudly resists all common sense.

“Having trouble with gravity?” One day, Ymir is going to find a way to render Levi speechless and she will gloat as a choir of angel babies sing her praise. For now, she settles for gingerly raising her right hand to flip him the bird. Levi ignores her in favor of sniffing the air and scowling at the scent permeating the room. “Why the fuck does it smell like piss in here? Did one of you morons forget how to use a toilet.”

“My girlfriend brought home a stray and it peed all over the place.” Ymir informs him. “These two morons came over to help clean it up cause I'm out of commish. Think the brat has rabies or something, cause she freaked the fuck out when Historia tried bathing her. Probably gave it to Reiner.” That about covers everything. Levi leaves her line of sight to inspect the damage, which is probably irreversible at this point.

“Disgusting, why haven't you cleaned this already? The stain's already set in.” Somehow, Levi makes it sound like they've left a dead body to rot in their living room. He walks back over to glare at Ymir. “I'll bet you were just planning on half-assing the clean-up and sticking something on top of it.”

“Well, the couch goes there, so pretty much.” Ymir smirks as the grumpy man's lip curls in disgust. He digs into his pocket and pulls out one of his many handkerchiefs.

“I'm taking care of this. I don't care if you want to live like a pig, but I am over here far too often to pretend such filth doesn't exist.”   He ties the handkerchief around his head and looks over at Bertolt, who more or less drops the cleaning supplies in the shorter man's arms. He seems to be trying to make himself as small and nonthreatening as possible. It's pretty fucking hilarious. Levi once again leaves Ymir's line of sight, sparing a quick glance at the child next to her. Bertolt just kinda of stands there looking like a giant lost puppy.

“As entertaining as this all has been, I'm bored now,” Ymir drawls as the scent of disinfectant enters her nose. Lovely. “Someone find me the fucking remote.”

“Sure you should swearing with the brat around?” Levi snarks. Ymir swears at him again in defiance. No way in hell was she going to censer herself for some kid. The sound of the television turning on distracts her from anything she was going to say.

“The shopping channel, really?” Bertolt sounds incredibly amused by this.

“Shut up. It was late and I was bored.” Man, that was what, three days ago? It feels like years since her biggest worry was what was on the TV. And her deadline. And the bills...

Bert turns to some mind-numbing news channel and refuses to change it when he realizes they're talking about something he's interested in. Ymir groans loudly in agony, but Bertolt just shushes her. He also shushes her attempts to mock the news casters. Bert gets random moments of assertiveness every so often.

Frustrated, but rather tired, Ymir resigns herself to being bored shitless. The girl at her side remains quiet, and out of the corner of her eye, Ymir can see she has not moved. It's a little worrying, but it's Historia's problem.  Eventually, she zones out and starts to doze.  The last thing she registers before she falls asleep is: _Lady Sina addresses the crowd at last night's Rally to End Hunger..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters won't always end with Ymir falling asleep, I promise.
> 
> I will edit the first three chapters in the next few days. Hopefully chapter four will be up in the next couple weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir needs food, and to know less about Levi's sex life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really rough semester with school, work, and a med problem. But I managed to pound most of this out when I could. I have a month off, so hopefully I can get out another chapter and grab my friend to beta!

Ymir dreams of unfathomable hunger; it's a dream she's familiar with, but not one she's had in a long time. This time, she finds herself staring at a small cage; she can't see anything in it, and it doesn't smell very good, like someone hasn't cleaned it in a while. She knows there's food in there though, and the thought of it makes her stomach clench in anticipation. She sees something small twitch in a corner; an animal of some sort, tiny and frightened. _Food._ She just needs to open the cage, reach in, and...

Ymir wakes with a start. She feels sick, and hungry in a way she hasn't felt in years. She knows her mind is playing tricks on her, but knowing doesn't make the hunger seem any less real.

“Are you ok?” Comes Bertolt's voice from close by.

“Mm,” she mumbles. Memories are bubbling just under the surface, and she can't quite look Bertolt in the eyes. Ymir slowly sits up, and realizes she can actually move without too much pain now. Turning her head is still a big fat NO, though, as she finds out when trying to stretch. Gingerly, she rubs the sore spot on her neck.

There is only a towel on the floor next to her, with zero child in sight.

“Uh...kid?” If she loses that thing, she's fucked.

“In the kitchen, under the sink.” Bertolt rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “She bolted under there shortly after Historia and Reiner left to get him stitched up.”

“Fuck! Seriously?!”

“You don't remember? Historia woke you up before they left.” Ymir groans and rubs her eyes in frustration. It doesn't surprise her that Bertotlt didn't take his partner. The four of them don't care too much for hospitals and doctors, but Bert and her are by far the worst. Bertolt breaks down into panic attacks and Ymir becomes an immovable statue.

“That means we're in charge of the kid, huh?” Ymir stands up carefully to avoid further aggravating her neck.

“Ahh, yes,” Bertolt wrings his hand; Ymir tsks.

“Guess we better go check on her.” She needed some food anyway. “Where'd the angry man go?”

“Uh, he's still cleaning,” Bertolt tells her, glancing down the hall. “He's like an angry little maid. He doesn't so much clean as he scares the dirt away. Don't tell him I said that.”

“Scouts honor,” Ymir promises; Bert just looks at her with undisguised disbelief. Ymir is the least scout-like person he knows; she is the anti-scout. Ymir cackles at the look on his face and starts making her way into the kitchen; Bertolt follows obediently.

“Stay out of our bedroom, Levi!” Ymir doesn't want him to find and mock their sex toys. He's already mocked their porn and she wants Historia to maintain some dignity-Ymir never had any.

Bertolt silently points out Maria's hiding spot when they enter the kitchen and Ymir-after realizing squatting is also a thing that's NOT HAPPENING (ow)-sits on the floor in front of it to deal with the menace. The cabinet the brat has crawled into is the large, double door-ed one under their kitchen sink. She is none to happy when Ymir yanks open one of the doors to remove the extra dish soap and the old, horrifying sponge they keep in there. Ymir doesn't know a lot about kids, but she does know they stuff everything in their stupid little mouths, so she isn't taking any chances.

She tosses the detergent on the counter and the sponge in the trash, before a sudden wave of dizziness overtakes her. Ymir grabs the counter to steady herself and realizes she hasn't eaten or taken her medicine today. Like some kind of psychic, Bertolt pipes up.

“Umm, we should probably get her to eat something.” OK, so it wasn't about _Ymir's_ empty stomach, but close enough.

“Kaaaay” Ymir drawls, heading to the medicine cabinet. She and Historia used to keep everything in the mirror cabinet in the bathroom, but crap kept falling in the sink, so all the medicine got moved to a relatively unused cupboard in the kitchen. “Toss me something too, I'm starving.”

Ymir can _hear_ Bertolt roll his eyes as he starts to rummage through the pantry. Ymir didn't remember to grab a glass for her meds, so she gets to dry swallow them. Yay.

“...Ymir? Why do you have cat food?”

“To feed my pussy!” Ymir cackles.

“Seriously, Ymir.”

“You're no fun,” Ymir mutters. “Historia used to feed a stray cat at our old apartment; must have brought it with us when we moved.” Actually, she had been the one to start feeding it, but she wasn't about to let anyone know that. They might think she was getting soft and gooey. “Hey, think she'd like cat food?”

“Who?”

“The gremlin under the sink, who else?” Ymir rolls her eyes.

“Ymir,” Bertolt says, in his strictest tone. “We are not feeding Maria cat food.”

“Why not? It'll probably be the fanciest food she's ever eaten.” Bertolt responds by tossing a granola bar at her head. It hits her on the forehead and she catches it as it falls to the floor. Well, she did ask for food.

Bertolt moves to the fridge, hoping to find something suitable in there. Ymir hasn't been to the market in days, due to sheer laziness. The fridge isn't empty or anything, but it is sparse.

“Oh, there's still some rice pudding left.” Ymir tells Bertolt. “Historia made me go out to get some when she was on her period a couple weeks ago. It should _probably_ still be good.”

“Where?” Bertolt asks, shuffling some crap around.

“Dude, it's the tub on the second shelf.”  Bertolt checks, and pulls it out once he finds it.

“This isn't a tub, this is a vat.” Bertolt says, almost in awe of it. “I didn't know they sold this much rice pudding commercially.”

“Baby _really_ wanted rice pudding.” Bertolt just shakes his head and starts preparing a bowl of the pudding. Ymir continues to munch on her bar.

“Here,” is what he says when he finishes. Ymir pauses in her chewing to stare at him. Bertolt just holds the bowl out to her, looking expectant.

“What?” Ymir hopes Bertolt isn't expecting _her_ to feed the little monster.

“Feed Maria.” Apparently he is.

“Yeah, no. That's not happening.” Ymir finally swallows the mouthful of food she's been talking around. “Feed her yourself. You like kids, right? Hop to it.”

“She's terrified of me, and even more so of Levi. I'm not asking you to spoon-feed her, just to make sure she eats it.”

Ymir groans and grumbles, but Bertolt remains steadfast. Petulantly, Ymir finishes her granola bar as slowly as possible. Bertolt waits for her to toss the wrapper on the counter before shoving the bowl into her hands. Ymir huffs and marches over the sink.

“Oi. Food.” Ymir says unceremoniously, plopping the bowl on the floor next to the cabinet. The little girl seems interested but wary. Ymir swipes some of the pudding with her finger and pops it into her mouth. “See? It's fine, eat it.”

Maria still seems unsure, so Ymir leaves the bowl and stands up to lean against the island, to give her some privacy. After a few moments, she hears the unmistakable sound of a spoon clacking against a bowl. Ymir feels an odd sense of victory.

She throws a smirk at Bertolt, who smiles indulgently at her.

“Shall we check in with our intrepid duo?” He asks. Ymir rolls her eyes as she pushes away from the counter.

“They aren't superheros, they just went to the doctor's.” Still, she goes and grabs her phone from the bedroom.

Ymir has 38 texts and 2 missed calls. Most are from her editor (“Where's the draft?” _Uhh_ ), Connie (“Sasha is going to show me how to prepare a roadkill squirrel” _Of course she is_ ), and Sasha (“Wanna come eat squirrel?” _Can't_ ).

The most recent texts are from Historia and Reiner, updating Ymir on Reiner's status and random shit, respectively. In a clear attempt to distract himself from the unpleasantness of the doctor's office, Reiner has sent several texts detailing the strange old woman in the waiting room and how obscenely hot his doctor is. The texts about the latter are more than a little obscene themselves.

“Your boyfriend's cheating on you,” Ymir deadpans.

“What?” Bertolt seems confused, although not overly worried. He takes the phone from Ymir and scrolls through Reiner's text. Bert raises one of his eyebrows in amusement, before dialing his beau.

“So you want the doctor to face-fuck you, huh?” Is what Bertolt says once the call goes through, a slight blush on his cheek. Ymir guffaws loudly as Reiner's booming voice can be heard desperately covering his ass.

“Sounds like he's ok,” Ymir snorts. Bertolt rolls his eyes fondly, and turns away to speak more privately to Reiner. The sound of bottles being tossed onto the island behind her startles Ymir. She turns around to see Levi removing his handkerchief, somehow looking only slightly more ruffled than when he started.

“I'm never having children,” he sneers. This is not the first time he has made this statement, and it probably won't be the last.

“Ugh, you haven't even been here for the worst of it.” Ymir complains, draping herself over the kitchen island. “She hasn't even been here for a day and I'm already over it. Remind my to bop Hange one when I see them next.”

“Hange's behind this then?” Levi asks, although he seems unsurprised by this. As someone close to Hange, he should not be.

“Kid was living in some pretty squalid conditions, apparently. One of those extra special cases that go through every so often. Right up that weirdo's alley.” Hange has always been the type of person to get excited over a challenge, and this brat was nothing if not a challenge. “Still, I don't understand why we have to be saddled with her."

“How's Historia handling all this?” Levi asks, and it hits Ymir that she hasn't really considered Historia's feelings at all. Ah, shit. Levi looks particularly judgmental at her silence. “I'd talk to her when she gets back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ymir grumbles, although she plans to follow his advice. Levi rolls his eyes and cracks his neck, which hurts Ymir just to look at.

“I've spent enough time in this dump,” he tells her, ever the charmer. “I'm going to go pick up shit for dinner.”

“I thought you guys ate take-out most of the time.” Neither Erwin nor Levi were big in the kitchen. A feral grin spread across Levi's face.

“I found a list of foods that are supposed to make semen taste more interesting. Tonight is celery night.” Ymir snorted.

“Yeah, _don't_ tell me how that turns out.”

“I suppose such information would be wasted on you anyhow.” Ymir rolls her eyes.

“Get out of here you asshole. I'll call you when this is over and we can go out to drink.” As her way of thanking him for cleaning up, without actually thanking him.

“You better.” They nod to each other, and Levi heads out. Ymir focused her attention back to the kitchen.

Berolt was _still_ talking to Reiner. Fucking hell.

“Can you ask them to pick up some grub?” That granola bar wasn't going to keep satisfied for more than an hour. Maybe less.

“Reiner and Historia are going to pick up some stuff for the girl.” Bertolt tells her as he finally hangs up. “They should be back in a couple hours.” Ymir groans.

“Fuck it. Let's order pizza.”


End file.
